1

What role can ‘Sound Design’ play in the effective enhancement of dramatic tension in film, when combined with, or as a replacement to the conventional orchestral film score?

Simon Coleman- MMus Composition for Screen Royal College of Music

From the beginnings of ‘sound-film’ in the late 1920’s through to the present day

Hollywood blockbuster, music has played and continues to play the predominant role in

underscoring a scene of dramatic tension in film. In recent years however, this

dominance of (largely orchestral) music has lessened, although albeit fractionally,

giving way to a wider palette of ‘sound’ possibilities. These sound possibilities tend to

be defined in terms of diegetic realistic/environment sounds, and non-diegetic sounds,

whose causality are of less importance than their ability to emotionally underscore a

scene, historically the raison d’être of music in film.

This opening of the auditory horizon has moved in parallel motion with, and in part

due to the ever evolving technological advances in cinema as we move more fully

towards the digital age. The dominance and increasing sophistication of visual effects is

the most immediately apparent change to cinema audiences, and by their very nature

these effects require an equally sophisticated sonic counterpart. Alongside these

technical advances there has been an increased awareness amongst a handful of

directors from subsequent generations about the possible uses of sound in film, when

treated creatively and with as much thought as a director’s more natural, visual

territory. Notable examples include the films of Andrei Tarkovsky and David Lynch,

each from a different generation and both equally innovative in their use and treatment

of sound in film.

2

In his book Sculpting in Time, Tarkovsky takes the process of using

(realistic/environment) sound in film a step further by stating that:

It may be that in order to make the cinematic image sound authentically, in its full diapason, music has to be abandoned. For strictly speaking the world as transformed by cinema and the world as transformed by music are parallel, and conflict with each other. Properly organised in a film, the resonant world is musical in its essence - and that is the true music of cinema. (1989: p.159)

Although Tarkovsky moved further toward this aesthetic direction in his later work,

he never fully abandoned the use of non-diegetic music as underscore.

Director Francis Ford Coppola provides a good example of an equally inventive yet

more balanced approach to the use of sound in film. Along with his long-term sound

collaborator Walter Murch, Coppola revolutionised the use of sound, (and music) in

films such as The Godfather, (1972) and Apocalypse Now, (1979). In fact it was Murch

who first coined the term ‘sound design’, implying not simply the manipulation of a

sound itself, but a greater creative role for sound within a film. To them sound became

integral in the forming of tension within a scene, far from its traditional role of

background foley or effect. They would often subvert this role by placing a sound

within a scene, divorced from its image, and use it to unusually permeate the

foreground; the sound not necessarily being manipulated itself, rather manipulating the

scene by being placed outside of its rational context. This ‘manipulation’ consequently

led to a blurring of the line halfway between a sound’s diegetic origin and its

subsequent unfolding into a non-diegetic homeostasis; a halfway point which could be

termed ‘semi-diegetic’ balance.1

1 In her book Unheard Melodies: Narrative Film Music Claudia Gorbman uses the term “Metadiegetic” to describe a comparable yet distinct phenomenon. This term refers primarily to the use of non-diegetic music which subconsciously affects the characters within a scene but has no diegetic origin or inference. (1987: p.22)

3

This could also be described as the moment an audience suspends disbelief and

therefore accepts, (consciously or subconsciously) a sound’s emotional capacity,

removed but not untraceable from its causal origin.

Within the limits of this paper I shall examine this semi-diegetic balance through a

number of examples. These will demonstrate the above possibility, of sound performing

a dual function, of on-screen sound effect and off-screen underscore. I shall look at this

in three ways when married to a scene of dramatic tension: firstly, in the unusual

placement of diegetic sound within a scene, (à la Coppola); secondly, in the re-

designing of diegetic sound in order for it to merge into the non-diegetic realm, whilst

retaining enough of its original character to enable a dual sonic function; lastly, in the

ways that sound can effectively enhance visual tension, regardless of causal

origin/identity, both in conjunction with, and as a replacement to music. As well as

examining these and other possible advantages of sound, I shall also look at the ways in

which sound design can learn from musical principles in order to perfect its role as

effective underscore.

Although there is much written material on the subject of sound design, for instance

the work of Rick Altman, Michel Chion and Walter Murch, the specific field of

discussion on ‘sound’ as outlined above is relatively sparse. It is hoped that this paper

will go some way towards addressing these issues as well as opening up new areas of

thought on the role of sound in film.

The notion of ‘duality’ is itself hard to define. The implication that something can

exist in two places at once contains inherent contradictions. These two places, in the

case of sound, are diegetic and non-diegetic space. Can a sound simultaneously exist in

both spaces, or would this coexistence weaken the sound's impact, rendering it

unusable?

4

By highlighting a sound within the diegetic space, and then drawing it, (and the

audience) across the sonic plane into the non-diegetic space, an essence of duality may

be achieved. As long as an audience perceives both diegetic and non-diegetic functions

in the sound, a semi-diegetic balance has been attained.

An example of this semi-diegetic balance can be found in a scene from Ridley

Scott’s 1982 film Blade Runner, (Composer: Vangelis, Sound Editor: Peter Pennell).

The scene in question sees the main antagonist, Roy Batty, alongside his partner Pris,

coercing the scientist J.F. Sebastian into helping them find their creator, (Video ex. 1).

This coercion takes place with a minimal use of music, (in the form of a repeated two

note synthesised drone) the use of low, industrial sounding hums, and the initially faint

sound of eggs in boiling water, (Fig. 1). As Roy becomes more forceful and heated so

too does this latter sound, and on cessation of the dialogue the camera cuts to a close-up

shot of the previously unseen eggs, boiling in a conical tube. The sound moves to the

foreground, permeating the sonic sphere, reflecting not only Roy’s violent actions, but

also his inner turmoil.

In his seminal book Audio-Vision: Sound on Screen, Michel Chion uses the term

anempathetic to describe the use of such ordinary, inanimate objects and sounds to

create tension by their …“conspicuous indifference to what is going on in the film’s

plot” (1994: p.221). When taken out of context, the ‘eggs in boiling water’ sound would

seem perfectly innocuous, due to its detached and anempathetic quality. However,

when placed within the above ‘dramatic’ context, the sound’s natural ‘crescendo of

boiling’ reflects the drama, naturally bonding with the other sonic and visual elements

to enhance the tension: it is therefore both anempathetic and empathetic.

5

This ambivalence of sound’s role is an advantage within the scene. A similar effect

can be created by music within a scene, such as an orchestra crescendoing, whilst being

heard on a radio within the mise-en-scène.2 But there is an inherent self-consciousness

that comes with such usage, with the danger of drawing attention away from the drama

itself. The sound in the above scene adds to the reality of the situation.

Although the ‘eggs in boiling water’ sound becomes naturally heightened in the

above scene, it has not been sonically manipulated. How far removed from its original

causal source can an initially diegetic sound be manipulated until an audience’s

(subconscious) acceptance is questioned?

An example of this manipulation of sound, merging from diegetic to non-diegetic

can be found in a scene from Arlington Road (Director: Mark Pellington, Composer:

Angelo Badalamenti, Sound Designer: Randy Thom, 1999), in which the main

character’s wife is being murdered with a shotgun, (Video ex. 2). This is seen as a

dream-like slow motion flashback, with the realtime sound of a baby crying, (just out of

shot) and a synthesised choir-like sound permeating the soundscape until the gun is

fired. At this point the image is frozen in time, bleaching out for around four seconds

and then quickly fading back into a realtime shot of the main character, visibly reliving

this scene in his mind. The former sounds are replaced by the sound of the firing gun,

enhanced by reverb and delay effects, adding to the ‘flashback’ feeling and the surreal

manner of the killing. The frozen image draws the audience’s attention to the sound,

leading them to examine it and therefore more fully realise its implications within the

scene. The sound itself must saturate the ear; had it not been ‘effected’ there would

have been a lack of sonic depth necessary to balance the visual stillness.

2 Mise-en-scène designates what appears in front of the camera; with the set design, lighting etc. being out of view.

6

As well as bridging the gap produced by the ‘bleaching out’ effect and the

subsequent fade into the next scene, the ‘effected’ sound continues into this new scene,

intermittently and thunder-like, gradually dying away until the main character starts

talking. This reflects the fact that although the main character is back in realtime, he

takes a few moments to be fully conscious and aware of his surroundings. The sound’s

‘real’ equivalent would have long since faded, leading to an ensuing silence which

would inevitably highlight the visual disparity between the two cues.

Although in the above example the sound’s causal origin is recognisable, there is

still a need for the sound to be designed or manipulated. By transforming it into the

‘surreal’ or ‘hyper-real’ the sound paradoxically seems more natural. A normal ‘un-

effected’ sound would be incongruous to the scene because we are not objectively

witnessing a ‘shooting’, (e.g. as a piece of news footage) but are empathising with the

main character by being immersed within his dream/flashback.

Sound takes on a significant role here, filling the void between ‘diegetic’ and ‘non-

diegetic’, and so achieving a semi-diegetic balance. Because the sound is manipulated

from the start, the ‘duality’ of on/off screen functions is equally weighted throughout

the scene. For the audience, those elements of visual/sonic manipulation come together

to create a subconscious emotional effect equivalent to a surreal shock.

The semi-diegetic balance achieved in both of the above examples clearly enhances

the corresponding drama, but because we can see as well as hear the relevant sound’s

origins, no great leap of imagination is required to bridge the connection between sound

and image. Therefore, the reward of, what Walter Murch calls “a correspondingly

greater dimensionality of experience” (1995: p.250), is lessened. What would happen in

a scene if an anempathetic sound source was used to create tension diegetically, but was

devoid of its causal visual image, (as in Murch’s work with Coppola) leaving the

7

audience on some level, to make their own judgements as to what is happening? Would

the “dimensionality of experience” be enhanced if sound design was placed alongside

music, or would this lead to an overloading of the senses with auditory confusion? In

the next example I shall look at these, and other uses of sound design, as well as

examine the relationship between sound design and music when placed together within

a scene of dramatic tension.

In the film Se7en, (Director: David Fincher, Composer: Howard Shore, Sound

Designer: Ren Klyce, 1997), fragments of orchestral music and sound design are placed

together throughout, with the sound design being employed in both a diegetic and non-

diegetic sense. A significant scene, in terms of sound design and music, (together with

very sparse dialogue) sees Detectives Mills and Somerset entering and subsequently

searching the killer's apartment for the first time, (Video ex. 3). The scene is just over

three and a half minutes long and is sonically dominated by extremes of both the high

and low registers. I shall look in detail at the first two minutes of the scene which I have

divided into three separate parts, using key moments of sonic and visual change as a

guide, (Fig. 2).

The orchestral palette in this scene is limited to the brass, (trombones) and string,

(cellos/double basses) sections with timpani accompaniment, and initially dominates

the lower sonic space with an Eb minor ‘question and answer’ figure based on a

rhythmic first part and sustained second part, (Fig. 2.1). Timpani is used underneath the

sustained part to create a low ‘rumbling’ texture which aids the feeling of discomfort in

the scene. This figure is then repeated, and even though there are slight pauses between

the phrases, a definite feeling of a slow and foreboding tempo is established. This is

important not only for the music's own non-diegetic terms of reference, but in a wider

8

sense, creating a rhythmic/textural framework above which sound design can be most

suitably placed, allowing each sonic element its necessary space.

Se7en Scene (Fig. 2.1)

The initial Eb minor figure is followed by a more melodic and less fragmented

figure which alludes to C minor through the use of its sixth chord, Ab major (lydian)3,

(Fig. 2.2). After the initial figure is repeated, C minor is also alluded to by the sound

design elements, moving into the second part of the scene (which I shall discuss later).

This creates a feeling of binary form, which, at the beginning of part three, is then

broken up by a new five note D minor/chromatic music figure (Fig. 2.3). As well as

helping to define the third part, this new figure adds a melodic freshness to the

soundscape and helps to emotionally drive the scene forward. The initial figure then

returns, taking the music back to Eb minor. The movement between Eb and C minor is

significant, especially in part one of the scene, as much of the sound design here is at a

definite pitch, therefore intentionally or otherwise, reinforcing or opposing the two

keys.

Se7en Scene (Fig. 2.2)

3 The term Lydian refers to a major scale which has a sharpend fourth degree. This is called a Mode, and is often used in modern jazz music.

9

Se7en Scene (Fig. 2.3)

Sound design in this scene is manifest in over half a dozen distinct forms. I shall

take the most significant/prominent of these and look at them, loosely in order of

register, moving from high to low. As the Detectives cautiously open the apartment

door we hear the sound of the door’s creaking hinges, followed by the sound of

creaking floorboards as they walk forward. A brief but piercing metallic sound is

placed in between these two foley sounds. This sound, which I shall call ‘tension

wire’4, is not married to any specific visual moment itself, but almost emerges from the

‘hinges’ sound.

This blending of diegetic and non-diegetic sound is significant at such an early

stage of the scene. If heard in isolation, the ‘tension wire’ could have drawn too much

attention to itself, therefore negating its subconscious unsettling effect. Although the

hinges and floorboard sounds are not of one definite pitch, they are roughly in the same

register as the ‘tension wire’. This leads to another form of an audience's subconscious

acceptance, whilst equally acting as a link between the two foley sounds. Being

pitched, (at E natural) the ‘tension wire’ also naturally blends with the first part of the

music figure underneath, (itself tonally ambiguous at this stage) despite the sound's

pitch being at the opposite end of the spectrum. In a subtle way, the ‘tension wire’ is

successful in reflecting the immediately strange and dark visual setting, consequently

reinforcing itself and the drama. 4 The 'Tension Wire' sound could be an industrial or environmental sound, or possibly the sound of bowed Orchestral or Tam-tam cymbals, all of which are used in the film. For more information see the Se7en: Special Edition DVD which features a version of the film with an audio commentary by the Director, Composer and Sound Designer.

10

As the scene cuts to the next room, the camera focuses on a red neon cross, then

begins to pan to the right, towards the door. During this panning movement we hear the

‘tension wire’ again, now at the higher pitch of C. As the camera stops, the feeling of

movement is continued by detective Somerset shining a torch across the far wall.

Within this movement the ‘tension wire’ is heard up a fourth in pitch, and continues

through to the next shot.

In the above context the ‘tension wire’ reflects a more overt visual movement, (in

the camera, then the torch) than in the first example. An important distinction between

this and the sound's initial usage, is the lack of foley effect married to this latter

movement. As an audience has no acquired knowledge of how a neon cross and a torch

panning movement should sound, we can surmise that this sound acts diegetically in

one sense, filling the sonic void which necessarily accompanies these images. Even

though, (as with much of the sound design elements featured) the sound isn’t strictly

diegetic in origin, (e.g. emanating from within the narrative) as long as it accurately

reflects the feeling or intent behind a visual effect, such a marriage of sound and image

is perceived with verisimilitude.

From a different perspective this ‘marriage’ could be seen as mere coincidence,

with any synchronicity between sound and image being unintentional. When viewed

within the context of the whole scene though, we can see that in most instances

involving the ‘tension wire’, the sound is placed either next to, or directly on a specific

visual image or movement. Whether this was consciously intentional is less important

than the aforementioned audience perception of any sound/image link. Even if

ambiguity arises from this perception, the main issue is of helping to enhance the

unfolding narrative by creating a generic feeling of disturbance.

11

Within this very ‘ambiguity’ resonates an important advantage sound design has

over both foley effects and music. More freedom is allowed for, in terms of sound

placement, as well as pitch and texture, when compared to a foley effect, which has to

match an audience’s preconceived expectations. The advantage this has over music is

contained within the sound's ability to subtly merge into the non-diegetic realm, whilst

retaining its diegetic role. Music can perform this function, but only within an obvious

limited context.

In the following example, we find an unambiguous placement of the ‘tension wire’

married to a specific visual moment. Here the sound is heard as the camera moves

down over the last of three locks on the inside of a door. This is acutely felt, with no

other significant sounds being placed at this point. Michel Chion uses the term

synchresis5 to describe such an unlikely yet unmitigated link between sound and image.

The sustained part of the original music question-and-answer figure is repeated at the

same point, sitting parallel to the ‘tension wire’ against this shot. The relationship

between music and sound design works well here, with the extreme difference in tone

and register between the two, creating clearly defined roles as well as helping to frame

the visual shot.

The above examples of the ‘tension wire’ demonstrate its semi-diegetic nature,

creating a subtle yet tense effect as well as reflecting the visual imagery, therefore

fulfilling a dual function.

This ‘reflecting’ of the visual by the ‘tension wire’ and other sound design elements

occurs frequently during the scene. Historically in film, music would be used to fulfil

such a function, but this practice has long since been abandoned as its overtly obvious

nature tends to diminish the narrative flow. It is now reserved for use as a comedic or

5 For more information on Chion’s term Synchresis see his aforementioned book Audio-Vision: Sound on Screen, (p.63).

12

ironic device, and is especially prevalent in cartoon music, hence the name of mickey-

mousing6 given to this effect. If music used in this way produces a mickeymousing

effect, why does this use of sound design not produce a similar effect? Taking the

‘tension wire’ as an example: as the sound is hard to identify specifically, (unlike the

sound of a violin for instance) there is very little audience expectation or anticipation in

terms of its placement. This enables it to reflect the visual conspicuously yet retaining a

certain degree of effacement. Another reason why music would not be ideal for such

use lies in the more general role of structural congruity established by the music thus

far in the scene. This may be weakened by such an opposing usage.

A haunting atmospheric wind, ‘wind atmos’ sound can be heard, in a similar

register to the ‘tension wire’, throughout this scene. It is first heard, pitched at G

natural, bridging the space between the opening shot of the scene and the subsequent

shot of a cabinet. The sustained E flat minor chord of the initial music figure is also

heard at this point, creating dissonance against the ‘wind atmos’. As we see the detailed

contents of the cabinet, (mostly carpenter’s planes) accentuated by a torch light, the

sound becomes more prominent, then tails off, fractionally descending in pitch. Its

resonance is almost choir-like, with the ‘tailing off’ having a similar quality to the end

of a high-pitched scream. Two other instances of the ‘tension wire’ are heard over this

cabinet shot, but because they are lower in the mix and have a different texture, they

don't interfere with the ‘wind atmos’ which sits unabated within its own sonic space.

The ‘wind atmos’ adds emotional weight and clarity to the camera shot by alluding to

some previous undesirable use of the cabinet’s contents.

6 The term Mickeymousing is used to describe music which punctuates visual action in an overt and obvious way, primarily used in cartoon music.

13

A similar sound is heard as Detective Somerset shines his torch across the darkened

room, (Fig. 3). The shot lasts for approximately four seconds, allowing the ‘wind

atmos’ to naturally dominate the soundscape, with its ambient depth and sustained

quality absorbing the auditory space. Both image and sound start at the same time,

forging an immediate link; both also have a similar arc which builds to a central point

before tailing off. Similar to the previous example, the ‘tension wire’ is placed within

this shot, adding a metallic layer above the lower cavernous resonance. The ‘wind

atmos’ also has a metallic quality, which together with its more ‘wet’ cavernous tones,

sounds similar to the deep iron-like resonance of a ship’s hull, contrasting to the

‘tension wire’ whose higher pitch is more steel-like. The camera cuts to another shot

before the torch finishes its movement, but the audience's mind seems to naturally fill

in the rest of this movement, aided by the sound which subtly moves over the visual

cut, seeping into the next shot. Due to the relationship built up thus far between sound

and image, this visual shot necessitates a sonic partner even though it has no foley

equivalent. The ‘wind atmos’s’ ability to, on the one hand provide a diegetic foley type

effect, then morph into a non-diegetic role bridging the non sequitur cut, is the very

essence of semi-diegetic balance.

In the first minute, (which I shall call part one) of the scene as a whole, a general

feeling of the killer’s apartment is established, with music dominating the rhythm and

tempo of the soundscape. The next 30 seconds, (part two) sees a more detailed and

personalised series of shots, with specific links to the previous scenes’ killings. In

contrast to the first part, sound design, (in the form of the ‘wind atmos’) is employed

here to create a textural/harmonic framework, with music being used sparingly, as an

effect in conjunction with the more fragmented sound design elements.

14

The ‘wind atmos’ is heard at three separate pitches, (Fig. 2.4) bridging the transition

into the second part, along with the faint sound of high sustained strings. As the camera

passes slowly over various objects in the wall cabinets a feeling of anticipation is

created. This is aided by the gradual changes in pitch and volume of the ‘wind atmos’,

with the top A flat line becoming prominent. The dissonance created between this line

and the high strings emphasises a feeling of C minor, reinforced by the intermittent

sounding E flat ‘wind atmos’ and the lowest line, whose initial C sharp slowly descends

through a C natural at this point. The sustained music figure underneath is lower in the

mix at this point, yet heard enough to combine with the above elements, producing an

ambiguous, (partially bi-tonal) quality to the soundscape.

Se7en Scene (Fig. 2.4)

Time/Secs 0.51 1.00 1.02 1.05 1.06 1.10 Action/Speech Torch light Part II Finger “Victor” Broader Background

on cabinets in jar shot dialogue

The A flat ‘wind atmos’ continues to descend over this transition into the second

section, which is marked by the music figure ending. The resultant vacuum created by

the cessation of the music figure draws the audience’s attention to the ‘wind atmos’.

This releases the now heightened anticipation by moving down to a G natural, which

15

along with the two other lines briefly creates a first inversion G augmented chord,

forming another type of dissonance. This preempts and connects with the next, more

shocking visual image of a severed hand pickled in a jar, (seen through Detective

Somerset’s eyes) at which point the ‘wind atmos’s’ gradual descent seems even more

pertinent to the drama, with the associations of falling and death etc. As the G natural

‘wind atmos’ continues to an F sharp, more ephemeral scream-like and low rumbling

sounds, (see ‘train tracks’ below) also emphasise the visual connection, creating a brief

climax of tension. Following this tension, the ‘wind atmos’ fades into two pitches,

creating a cadential point of rest which allows space and time for Detective Somerset,

(seen as a mid-shot) to make the connection between this image and a previous scene,

which is confirmed as he says the name “Victor”. The camera then cuts to a broader

shot which is reflected in the ‘wind atmos’s’ thinning of texture, lifting up to a C sharp

before descending chromatically once more. This descent is more evenly paced,

fulfilling an intermediary function as the visual drama continues to broaden, in contrast

with the previous intensity. The ‘wind atmos’ finally rests on a sustained G sharp,

together with the reappearance of the high C sharp, confirming the latter note’s brief

establishment as tonic.

It is significant that the above sound design can be analysed in musical terms, as

this confirms a use of melodic line and harmonic structure only usually associated with

a more conventional music underscore. The ‘wind atmos’s’ more indefinable sound

design nature, here translated into its haunting quality, helps the sound to bypass the

audience’s conscious recognition, yet retain a ubiquitous presence in the soundscape.

The combination of these musical (pitched) and sound design (textural) qualities

enhance the sound’s impact on the drama in a way which is harder to achieve

orchestrally.

16

As the ‘wind atmos’ dies away we are drawn to a shot of a receipt attached to the

wall, (itself significant to the film’s plot). Aleatoric strings played at a very high

register, (Fig. 2.5)7 and an increasingly thunderous low rumble, (see ‘train tracks’

below) both emphasise the visual shot. This aleatoric string passage is the only time we

hear the orchestra during this second part of the scene. It has a sound design-like,

naturalistic quality, reminiscent of the sound of bats in a cave, which makes it less

recognisable in terms of both pitch and sound than in its usual generic orchestral role.

The strings then begin to intertwine and cross over with the sound of glass jingling,

which is heard in a similar register, although fulfilling a less intense and more etherial

function. This crossing over and mutual influencing of sound design and music

reinforces both elements and is evidence of a truly symbiotic relationship between the

two.

Se7en Scene (Fig. 2.5)

One of the features, in both sound and image, of the previous scene, (shot outside)

in Se7en, was the constant and heavy rainfall. Consequently this can also be heard,

(now from an inside perspective) as the detectives enter the flat. This constant but

random ‘water dripping’ sound sits in the medium to high pitch area throughout the

first two parts of the scene, bridging the sonic space between the lower music figure

and the predominantly higher pitched sound design. It differs from these other sound

design elements due to its rhythmic veracity and lack of any sustained pitch, creating a

faint bed of organic noise which subtly enhances the tension. 7 Aleatoric refers to the use of elements such as rhythm and pitch, chosen at random by the performer, and can be found in compositions by Lutoslowski and Penderecki, a good example being Penderecki’s Threnody for the Victims of Hiroshima, (1960).

17

The thunderous sound of a train approaching is heard at the start of the second

section as Detective Somerset views the severed hand, (see ‘wind atmos’ above). This

sound, which I shall call ‘train tracks’ directly correlates to the image, performing a

brief crescendo which links in with the other sounds to cement the image’s

significance. The ‘train tracks’ produces a similar physiological ‘rumbling’ effect to the

timpani used in part one, although here the sound is more unpredictable, both in rhythm

and pitch. The ‘train tracks’ then drops off into a faint rumbling which permeates the

lower register as the camera cuts to a broader shot. This lasts for approximately ten

seconds and then gradually increases in volume and density, but with intermittent gaps

in texture, adding dramatic weight to the following close shot of the receipt on the wall.

As the camera moves away, the sound gathers in intensity and pace, reaching its climax

as we see a slow tracking shot of the previously mentioned ‘neon cross’, above a bed.

The introduction of a new five note music figure (Fig. 2.3), also appears at this point (as

discussed previously). This marks the beginning of the scene’s third part.

Because the ‘train tracks’ sound is organic and ‘normal’ in origin, yet appears with

most veracity at a moment of tension, it is both anempathetic and empathetic, (similar

to the previous example from Blade Runner). Being detached from its visual image

reduces the audience’s ability to define and link the sound to the image we do see, (the

neon cross). This takes us back to the question of whether the audience can translate the

absence of a sound’s causal image into Walter Murch’s “greater dimensionality of

experience”. Murch describes this phenomenon, “Sounds, however, that do not relate to

the visuals in a direct way function at an even higher level of dimensionality and take

proportionately longer to resolve.” (1995: p.249). This “higher level of dimensionality”

is achieved most profoundly if the sound, on some level correlates to the image shown.

18

Here sound correlates to image by, on a basic level adding to the generalised feeling of

discomfort, but because the ‘neon cross’ shot is relatively still in nature, the audience’s

imagination is not given enough information, (both visual and sonic) to take this feeling

on to the “higher level”. This level is achieved however, by the inclusion of a

reverberated high pitched scream, heard at the same point. The ‘scream’ sound gives an

immediate and human emphasis to the shot, inviting the audience to make associations

between the images of the cross and bed and the sound. This is Chion’s synchresis.

Rick Altman calls such a linking of sound and image the sound hermeneutic, whereby

the audience is subconsciously asked, “Where [does this sound come from]?” The on-

screen image replies with “Here!” (1992: p.252). This unification of sound/image in

turn allows the ‘train tracks’ to assimilate into these associations, therefore

strengthening the link between both sounds and image.

The use of sound design in the above examples from Se7en, on the deepest level

links with the visual imagery, to form associations specific to each individual’s

imagination, leading them to personalise and so fully realise the drama. This is Murch’s

“greater dimensionality of experience”, personified here by the ability to identify with

the inner world of the serial killer as seen through the Detectives’ eyes. The tension

produced by these sounds resonates subconsciously within the scene, achieving the

desired dramatic effect of a greater sensory experience.

The three examples outlined in this essay all contain clear and distinct uses of sound

design. The common factor which links all three is sound’s ability to enhance the

dramatic tension by subtly merging into the diegesis, bypassing the audience’s

conscious attention. In each example this is achieved in different ways: through the

unusual use of a familiar sound, as in the ‘eggs in boiling water’ sound in Blade

19

Runner; through the ‘effected’ shotgun sound in Arlington Road, which paradoxically

adds reality to the original causal sound; and in a variety of ways in Se7en, most

notably through the use of sound which is indefinable and unrecognisable to an

audience’s preconceived logic, and therefore is able to effect the drama on a

subconscious level. These three different, yet equally effective ways of enhancing

dramatic tension in a film sequence are harder to achieve orchestrally without drawing

attention away from the visual drama.

If sound design is to be used as the only element of underscore within a scene it

must also learn from music, especially the principles of structure/form and

harmonic/melodic development. In the second part of the Se7en scene, as the music

figure ends sound design establishes a wider role, encompassing a layering of sound

within a structural and harmonic framework which dynamically leads us through

certain points of significance. This is in contrast to part one of the scene, in which the

music figures fulfil this function, with the sound design performing a more fragmented

role, emphasising certain visual points within the scene. As the only sonic entity, sound

design must achieve a balance between the fragmented and the sustained, in order for

the former elements to not appear isolated within the soundscape. These elements must

also clearly resonate above the more sustained sound design, which itself must bond the

two together with its structural assemblage. Another, more visceral kind of balance is

equally as important in sound design’s role as underscore and can be heard throughout

the Se7en scene. Although each sound design element retains its own individual timbre

and resonance, when placed together they combine to form a distinct mood which

successfully reflects the damp, dark and suspenseful visual image.

20

When used in conjunction with orchestral music, the freedom necessary for sound

design to achieve the above examples of balance can often be negated due to the

inherent problems of conflicting key and register between the two. Because of

orchestral music’s traditional underscoring dominance within film, these problems are

often resolved in favour of the music, deferring sound design to its original non-tonal

role. This is described by Ben Burtt, Sound designer for Star Wars: Episode II - Attack

of the Clones (Director: George Lucas, Composer: John Williams, 2002), when

discussing his inclusion and subsequent withdrawal of sustained and effected musical

tones used to replicate the sound of ‘Zam speeders’, futuristic car-like spaceships

within the film. “In some cases, the musical tones that I made conflicted with the

orchestra. Which (sic) was a disappointment for me, because I wasn't able to push it

into a new area.” (Burtt, B. 2002)

This problem is avoided in the scene from Se7en through the clearly defined roles

of both music and sound design, which paradoxically encourages an interplay and

merging of the two. Examples of this merging include the ‘aleatoric strings’

intertwining with the ‘glass jingling’ sound, and the ‘train tracks’ sound performing a

timpani-like function underneath the orchestra.

Michel Chion argues against such use of sound, stating that:

…music enjoys the status of being a little freer of barriers of time and space than the other sound and visual elements. The latter are obliged to remain clearly defined in their relation to the diegetic space and to a linear and chronological notion of time. (1994: p.81)

Chion’s statement is true in relation to sound acting only as a diegetic ‘effect’, but

as the examples in this essay have shown, sound’s unique ability to blur the boundaries

of definition between the diegetic and non-diegetic space, leading to a semi-diegetic

balance, creates new possibilities of emotionally manipulating an audience.

21

Ultimately though, the choice of using sound design and/or music is dependent on a

particular scene and film’s visual and narrative structure. As shown in the scene from

Se7en, it is not the exclusivity of either sound design or music, but the employment of

both which enables the widest palette of sonic possibilities in a scene of dramatic

tension in film. Sound designer, Randy Thom approaches the subject with significant

openness, providing a valuable insight into his work when dealing with the perceived

differences between music and sound in film, “…I resist the idea that there is a clear

boundary between the two” (Thom, R.).

22

References

Altman, R. (1992) Sound Theory, Sound Practice, Routledge,

London. Chion, M. (1994) Audio-Vision: Sound on Screen, (Trans.

Gorbman, C) Colombia University Press, New York. Gorbman, C. (1987) Unheard Melodies: Narrative Film Music,

Indiana University Press, Bloomington. Murch, W. (1995) ‘Sound Design: The Dancing Shadow’ in

Projections 4: Film-makers on Film-making, John Boorman, Tom Luddy, David Thomson, Walter Donohue (eds.) Faber & Faber, London.

Tarkovsky, A. (1989) Sculpting in Time: Reflections on the Cinema, Revised edition, (Trans. Hunter-Blair, K) Faber & Faber Ltd.

Internet References

Burtt,B. (2002, June) Star Wars Episode II- Interview with Larry

Blake. (See under ‘Sound Editing’. Last viewed on 20/9/04) Http://mixonline.com/sound4picture/film_tv/audio_star_wars_episode_2/index.html

Thom, R. (No date) More confessions of a Sound Designer (A sound fails in the forest where nobody hears it). (See first page. Last viewed on 20/9/04) http://www.filmsound.org/randythom/confess2.html

Video References (2001) Se7en: Special Edition DVD (featuring a version of the film with an audio commentary by the Director, Composer and Sound Designer discussing the music and sound).

23

Further Reading

Weis, E & Belton, J. (1985) Film Sound: Theory and Practise, Colombia

University Press, New York. Altman, R. (2000) ‘Inventing the Cinema Soundtrack’, with

McGraw Jones and Sonia Tatroe, from Music and Cinema, James Buhler, Caryl Flinn, David Neumeyer (eds.) University Press of New England.

Murch, W. (1998) ‘Clear Density, Dense Clarity’, School of Sound Information Pack, Mera, M. (ed) London, E.P.E Projects, London.

Cook, N. (1998) Analysing Musical Multimedia, Oxford University Press, Oxford.

Turovskaya, M. (1989) Tarkovsky: Cinema as Poetry, (Trans. Ward, N) Faber & Faber Ltd.

24

What role can ‘Sound Design’ play in the effective enhancement of dramatic

tension in film, when combined with, or as a replacement to the conventional

orchestral film score?

Simon Coleman- MMus Composition for Screen

Abstract

From the beginnings of ‘sound-film’ music has played and continues to play the predominant role in underscoring a scene of dramatic tension in film. In recent years however, this dominance of (largely orchestral) music has began to give way to a wider palette of “sound” possibilities, which can be defined as diegetic realistic/environment sounds, and non-diegetic sounds, whose causality are of less importance than their ability to emotionally underscore a scene.

These sound possibilities have formed new ways of enhancing tension within a scene, far from sound’s traditional role of background foley or effect. This traditional role can be creatively subverted by manipulating a sound within a scene, or conversely using a sound to manipulate the scene itself. By placing a sound within a scene, divorced from its image, and using it to unusually permeate the foreground, the sound can manipulate the scene by being placed outside of its rational context. This “manipulation” consequently leads to a blurring of the line halfway between a sound’s diegetic origin and its subsequent unfolding into a non-diegetic homeostasis; a halfway point which could be termed ‘semi-diegetic’ balance. This could also be described as the moment an audience suspends disbelief and therefore accepts, (consciously or subconsciously) a sound’s emotional capacity, removed but not untraceable from its causal origin.

Within the limits of this paper I shall examine this semi-diegetic balance through a number of examples, which will demonstrate the above possibility, of sound performing a dual function, of on-screen sound effect and off-screen underscore. Although there is much written material on the subject of sound design, for instance the work of Rick Altman, Michel Chion and Walter Murch, the specific field of discussion on ‘sound’ as outlined above is relatively sparse. It is hoped that this paper will go some way towards addressing these issues as well as opening up new areas of thought on the role of sound in film.